


with sugar on top

by anangryaries



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Embarrassment Kink, Established Relationship, Kink Discovery, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Indulgent, Spit As Lube, Steven is in Andrew's sweater and VERY turned on, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anangryaries/pseuds/anangryaries
Summary: The red sweater fits Steven well, not overly baggy or out of place. He hadn’t even noticed it was his until now, and that’s because they share clothes all the time. It’s just something that happened when they moved in together. But seeing Steven in nothingbutAndrew’s sweater, straddling his thigh, flushed and half hard -It’s doing things to him, to say the least.
Relationships: Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim
Comments: 14
Kudos: 67





	with sugar on top

**Author's Note:**

> you know what, i'll admit that this was inspired by porn. and no, you can't have the link.  
> 
> 
> special thanks to [Meagan](https://silverfoxinapolicebox.tumblr.com/) for cheering me on/screaming about needySteven with me, and to [juu](https://nopeimnother.tumblr.com/) for giving me the courage to post this. ily guys <3 
> 
> Unbeta'd because I can't stomach having someone read this -please forgive my bad usage of tenses and typos.

Steven, for the most part, is incredibly polite. He thanks the owners of the restaurants they feature on Worth It profusely, to the point where he sounds almost apologetic. When he bumps into strangers on the street - or rather, they bump into him- he unconsciously does a half bow to make himself smaller and apologizes for them. The only instances Andrew ever gets to drive is when a manual is all they managed to rent and Steven _swears_ he can’t drive one (“You’re so full of shit,” Andrew will say with a smile.) 

But sometimes, he can be incredibly pushy. In his defense, it’s usually warranted, like when they’re pitching ideas for new episodes of Worth It and he _needs_ a particular stop to represent the one-dollar segment or else the entire thing isn’t worth doing. And sometimes, he just likes being a brat, like the one time he literally shoved Ryan to the ground in an attempt to get dibs on the last matcha cream puff (Adam ended up scooping it up nonchalantly while the pair wrestled on the carpet.) 

And right now, well, Andrew isn’t sure what Steven is being. 

The couple is spending their weekend evening as usual - with Steven’s head a familiar, welcome weight on Andrew’s shoulder while a Youtube video drones on in the background. Every so often, Steven will peek up from his phone and make a comment of _‘holy smokes’_ or the occasional impressed hum. Andrew is ten minutes into a video of a three-hundred pound giant bluefin being cut into sashimi appropriate sized slices when he feels Steven nuzzle against him. 

Admittedly, Andrew is only half paying attention, watching the video for the mere satisfaction of seeing seasoned Japanese chefs slice through slabs of meat like butter. He’s zoned out enough to not notice when Steven shifts several times over the evening to get comfortable; tucking his feet under himself and then propping them on the coffee table, having the top half of his back slumped flat against Andrew’s arm to switching to have his temple on Andrew’s shoulder. 

The nuzzling however, is too prolonged to be just Steven trying to get comfy. 

Andrew cranes his neck uncomfortably to glance down at Steven- who’s already blinking up at him. “What?” Andrew asks suspiciously. Steven _seems_ to be looking innocently enough, a small smile gracing his lips. 

He half expects Steven to blurt out some cheesy nonsense, something along the lines of _‘I’m just so happy to be here with you right now,’_ \- but Steven raises his eyebrows, just a bit, to where the stress lines on his forehead appear on his skin, and his smile begins to resemble something more playful. Andrew finds himself sporting an involuntary grin. “What?” he repeats. 

“Drew,” Steven hums, and then there’s that nuzzling again. 

“I’m not carrying you to bed,” Andrew deadpans. 

Steven rolls his eyes fondly before shimmying up the couch, pulling his feet off the coffee table to press more insistently against Andrew’s side. “I haven’t even said anything yet,” he huffs, sliding an arm over Andrew’s shoulder, pulling and pressing until the space between them is nonexistent. 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem here. What do you want?” Andrew says, trying to sound annoyed, which he quickly finds out is hard to do when Steven Lim is peppering kisses against your neck, pausing only to nip playfully. “Someone’s in a mood.” 

“I’m in _the mood_ ,” Steven clarifies. There’s a tingle on Andrew’s shoulder from where a new hickey blooms. 

“Really? Right now - in front of my sashimi?” Andrew frowns, gesturing to their TV. The video has already ended, so all he points to is a clean grid of thumbnails for suggested videos. 

They’re all about more giant tuna, so Andrew figures it still counts. 

“You weren’t even paying attention,” Steven points out, voice vibrating against the skin of Andrew’s neck. He’s starting to get goosebumps. Steven isn’t wrong, but a small part of Andrew had actually wanted to switch his brain off and zone out before eventually passing out for the rest of the night. 

But then Steven swings a leg over Andrew’s thigh, his boxers - _boxers_ , because Steven refuses to wear pants at home- hitching up to expose milky pale skin, and there’s only so much Andrew can handle. 

“Fine,” Andrew grunts out, pulling Steven onto his lap. “If you want to get off so badly, do it yourself.” Color floods Steven’s face instantly. He’s straddling Andrew’s left thigh snugly now, boxers hitched as high as they can go. Andrew’s fingers twitch at the sight, but he schools his features and smirks at Steven. “How about it, Stevie?” he challenges. 

Steven pouts, and for a second Andrew thinks he’s going to climb off, but then he’s reaching back towards his nape to pull his crewneck sweater off. “Don’t,” Andrew says abruptly, surprising even himself as he takes hold of both Steven’s wrists. “Sweater stays on,” Andrew mutters when he lets go. 

Steven looks like he wants to say something, but stays quiet as he awkwardly chucks his boxers off and settles back into place, properly straddling Andrew now. He’s clearly embarrassed, the beautiful blush already making its way down his neck and disappearing under the collar of his sweater. Andrew wants to follow the flush, see how far it trails down - he’s annoyed at himself for making Steven keep the sweater on, until -  


“Isn’t this mine?” Andrew hums, thumbing the hem of the fabric. His fingers skirt teasingly along the crease of where Steven’s thigh and hips meet. 

“What about it?” Steven huffs, poorly suppressing a shiver of excitement. Andrew shoots him an unimpressed look and cheekily pinches his thigh, the pop of skin immediately turning pink.

The red sweater fits Steven well, not overly baggy or out of place. He hadn’t even noticed it was his until now, and that’s because they share clothes all the time. It’s just something that happened when they moved in together. But seeing Steven in nothing _but_ Andrew’s sweater, straddling his thigh, flushed and half hard -

It’s doing things to him, to say the least.

“Well, are you gonna get going or not?” Andrew teases with his hands loosely placed on Steven’s hips. He’s proud of keeping his voice steady for the most part, and hopes Steven doesn’t notice how clammy his hands are getting. 

Steven blinks owlishly. “What do you mean? Aren’t you going to - “ he gestures to Andrew’s fully clothed form, “you know?” 

Andrew raises an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching up. “No,” he says simply, and then, “I was just minding my own business over here, right before you went and threw yourself at me-” he falters at the look of guilt Steven sends him, a flash of hot arousal fleeting through him. He wants to push and tease and god, _bully_ \- but he knows that Steven is sensitive when it comes to things like this, so he, a little reluctantly, dials it down. 

“Hey,” Andrew tries, straightening himself on the couch, pulling Steven in until they’re chest to chest. “I just wanna watch you tonight,” Andrew says, running his hands under Steven’s - _his_ \- sweater, and up his back in a pattern he hopes is calming. It works, if the way Steven melts against him is any indication. “Is that okay?”

Steven hesitates before he kisses Andrew needily, like he can’t take being stared at anymore, arms curling around Andrew’s neck. “This is embarrassing,” he mutters when they part, still close enough that Andrew is a little cross-eyed looking at him. 

“I think you like being embarrassed,” Andrew counters, taking in the way that Steven’s eyes have glazed over. He knows he isn’t wrong, especially because he can feel Steven’s persistent hardness press against his abdomen. Steven reaches down to curl his hand around himself, letting out a shudder of relief that Andrew surges forward to taste. 

Steven exhales shakingly through his nose, letting Andrew lick into his mouth while he keeps his strokes slow and even, toes curling every time he tightens his grip on the upstroke. He can feel Andrew hot and hard against his thigh, the bulge noticeable even through the dark plaid pattern of Andrew’s pajama bottoms. He lets the back of his fingers brush teasingly against Andrew, letting out a huff of laughter into the kiss when Andrew stiffens up under him. There’s still the remnants of prickling embarrassment on the back of Steven’s neck; he certainly isn’t used to having an audience, and the heat only grows when Andrew pulls away to settle comfortably against the couch, lips shiny and eyes dark, to enjoy the show. 

Steven’s stuck between wanting to disappear into his sweater and tearing it off so he can feel Andrew’s roaming eyes on every inch of his skin. He’s embarrassed, and just that thought makes his cock jump as he squeezes himself at the base. 

_This is so, so embarrassing. Andrew - he's watching me, watching me touch myself, and I can’t even stop because it feels so good...it feels good having him see me-_

A line of precome drools out of his cockhead and straight onto Andrew’s cotton grey shirt, the bead darkening the fabric. Steven whines at the sight, mindlessly reaching to trace the clear fluid. “Sorry,” he whispers, a little dazed.

Andrew tuts softly, “You’re leaking all over the place.” He thumbs the head, his touch smooth and teasing, spreading the slippery liquid over the top and then just on the underside of Steven’s cock, where he’s most sensitive. He hums contentedly when Steven’s hips stutter, chasing the sensation, bumping precome messily across Andrew’s palm. He feels Steven’s hands grip his shoulders shakily, anchoring himself as he fucks into the touch of Andrew’s loose fist. 

It’s a little adorable, and an almost unhealthy level of arousing, two things Andrew wasn’t even sure could co-exist, but somehow was personified in a turned-on Steven Lim. 

“Keep your hands where they are,” Andrew instructs firmly, giving his cock a firm squeeze before placing both hands on Steven’s bare thighs. Steven whines, eyebrows furrowed, dazed and confused. He’s pointedly ignored. “Now,” Andrew says, rolling his hips upwards, earning a choked off moan, “you’re going to make yourself come, just like this.” 

Steven teeths his bottom lip, impatiently waiting for Andrew to wrap his hand back around him, but Andrew stays smirking up at him, hands hot on his skin like a brand, with no intention of moving. “Andrew, c’mon,” he says, genuine frustration in his voice. He grinds down onto Andrew’s lap, keening at the pressure it puts on his balls. Right now he’s desperate, and he’ll honestly take anything he can get - it should be so easy to ignore Andrew and just jerk himself off, instructions be damned, but- 

“Just look at you,” Andrew practically growls, his low voice fanning the fire that’s settled in the pit of Steven’s stomach. “You’re acting like a dog in heat, you’d do anything to cum, huh? Why don’t you make like a dog then,” Andrew props his leg up on the coffee table, pulling Steven hard onto his lap, “and get off like one, humping my leg?”  


A sob chokes out of Steven, wet and broken. He buries his face into the crook of Andrew’s neck, face burning and bright red like he’s had too much to drink, even though he was nowhere near alcohol the entire night. His head is swimming, all thoughts mushing together into an incomprehensible desire- a _need_ to be touched. 

Meanwhile, Andrew stills, flexing his hand nervously, thinking he’s crossed the line. He should’ve brought it up before trying this - whatever this is. He’s even a little ashamed, internally cringing as he wonders where those lines _even came from -_

“Please,” Steven sniffs, voice muffled. He rolls his hips once, tentatively, and then, the little spark of pleasure that runs up his spine opens the floodgates, leaving him a writhing mess on Andrew’s lap. “I just want to come,” he whimpers, like he’s trying to convince himself to swallow down all his embarrassment and just let himself feel good like this. His breath is hot against Andrew’s neck, which honestly isn’t doing him any favors considering the fact that he already has a hot mass of a full grown man on his lap, and his body naturally runs warm.

Andrew feels a trickle of sweat race down his temple, feels it settle at his jaw only to be swept up by Steven’s tongue. “Jesus, Steven,” he groans, pulling back just enough to peek at Steven’s profile. His washed-out blue hair is clumped together against his forehead, and even though Steven has his eyes scrunched shut in ecstasy, Andrew brushes his bangs upside, and before he can stop himself, kisses his uncovered forehead. 

It’s soft, and so quick that Steven almost misses it. He melts into Andrew at the sign of affection, his cock leaving pools and strings of precome messily on Andrew’s shirt. His hips continue to roll at a somewhat steady pace; it’s a little rough, despite the soft cotton of the shirt, and Steven is so keyed up he could easily finish in a few strokes if he actually just reached down, but there’s something about the heavy exhale he hears Andrew let out, the heaving he feels when Andrew shudders every time their cocks brush together. “This feels good,” Steven slurs out.

Andrew swallows hard. “Yeah?” he manages to choke out, running his hands along the curve of Steven’s arched back, and then settling to squeeze his ass, hard. “You look like you’re having a good time.” He’s smiling when Steven kisses him desperately, moaning at the feel of Andrew’s hands on him, thighs squeezing around Andrew as he chases his orgasm frantically. 

Steven’s dizzy from how good it feels, he feels himself just at the edge, but he can’t, he can’t- 

_“I can’t, Andrew,”_ he practically sobs, the tears prickling his eyes from both frustration and pleasure. He scrambles and cradles Andrew’s face in his shaking hands, pressing their foreheads together. “Please, please, please-” 

Andrew shudders, feeling a bead of his own precome pearling in his pants. He steals one more kiss before gently prying Steven’s hands off and placing them pointedly back on his shoulders. He wordlessly presses his middle finger onto Steven’s bubbly bottom lip, pushing into his wet mouth with little resistance. _Suck_ , he’s about to say, but Steven is already placing his tongue flat against the digit, closing his mouth around it, flicking his tongue against the tip-

Andrew pulls out before he can cream himself thinking about shoving his dick down Steven’s throat. _Another time,_ he tells himself.

“Relax,” he breathes into Steven’s ear as he presses his wet finger against Steven’s hole. He hears Steven’s sharp intake of air, feels the flutter and clench around the pad of his finger. They never fool around like this without lube, but Andrew supposes he’ll have to make due with the situation he’s in. “Relax, honey,” he coaxes, pushing in gently, flexing his hand to brush against Steven’s prostate. Andrew shushes him gently when he feels Steven claw his shoulders, letting out a wanton moan right by his ear. “You like that?” 

He doesn’t receive a reply, and he can’t bring himself to hold it against Steven. 

Steven’s hip stutter, body torn between chasing the sweet friction of rutting against Andrew and the delicious, gut-punching pleasure against his prostate. He feels delirious, hands sliding to Andrew’s nape, through his hair, fisting the fabric on his chest. “Close,” Steven whimpers out, lips brushing Andrew’s cheek. 

“Yeah?” Andrew breathes, leaning forward to kiss Steven again. He can’t get enough, not when Steven looks so fucked, needy and desperate. He drinks in Steven’s desperate moans, letting him pull away to take in shaky breaths, to blink the sweat out of his eyes. His gray shirt, a damp mess of precome and sweat, clings to his torso. “Look at the mess you made,” he chides gently, pressing against Steven’s prostate, hard. “Why don’t you come already? You’ve already gone and ruined this shirt, come on. Aren’t you desperate for it? _Fucking come already, Steven,_ ” he growls. 

Above him, Steven’s hips still, and then he’s coming with a shout, a string of _‘oh my fucking g- Andrew, I’m-’_ stumbling out of him, clinging to Andrew for dear life. Steven’s nails dig painfully into Andrew’s nape and he hisses gently at the press, but silently thanks Steven for it; the pain enough to ground himself from pouncing Steven right then and there when he hears the shameless whine Steven lets out when he carefully pulls his finger out of him. “So good,” Steven whispers, and he’s slurring again, body boneless and breathing heavy from his orgasm. 

And now, Andrew’s (secret) favorite part. Steven nuzzles his cheek against Andrew’s, peppering kisses along his jawline, on his temples, cheeks, and finally, his lips. There’s a quiet ringing in his ears, and his thighs shake slightly as he shifts atop Andrew. “I love you,” Steven hums afterwards, nosing Andrew’s collarbone. The mess of come is starting to get uncomfortable, and Andrew’s dick is about to murder him, so he makes a move to shift Steven off his lap, grunting quietly when he doesn’t budge.

“Steven,” he sighs gently. “Come on, let’s - oh. _Oh, fuck,_ honey, it’s fine, you don’t -” 

“Shut up, Andy,” Steven whispers against his skin, still breathless. His hand finds itself tucked into the waistband of Andrew’s pajamas bottoms, gripping Andrew’s hard cock firmly, thumb spreading the slippery mess of precome all over his head. There’s a little bit of slide thanks to the slick collected in Andrew’s boxers, and Steven’s grip is tight enough to make up for the awkward angle. 

Andrew exhales hotly, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fucks into Steven’s grip. There’s a gentle nip on his lip and then he’s opening his mouth for Steven’s tongue, pushing into wet heat as he sinks deeper into the couch. He feels the elastic of his pants pull back, the fabric bunching up snugly under his balls. Andrew hisses as Steven’s other hand cups his balls, squeezing them in time with the flick of his wrist under the weeping head of Andrew’s cock. “Fuck, Steven,” he grunts, feeling his orgasm rip through him, spurting ribbons of come onto his already soiled shirt. 

He’s too dazed to feel Steven gingerly wipe his hand on his shirt, too out of his head to see the tiny mischievous smile gracing his lips. “I love you too, by the way,” Andrew sighs fondly, head thumping against the couch as he sinks into his post-orgasmic bliss. He feels a chaste kiss on his lips before Steven finally climbs off, laying himself out shamelessly on the couch, naked from the waist down with his feet propped on Andrew’s lap. 

“You love me even after I ruined your shirt?” Steven teases, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to stop his shit-eating grin from splitting his face in half. 

Andrew frowns down at himself, the fuzz in his head making everything come into focus much slower. His shirt is a mess of both his and Steven’s come, with some parts already dried and crusted up, and the pits of his shirt dark with signature Ilnyckyj sweat. “Ugh, what the fuck, Steven.” 

“You’re the one who started it,” Steven shrugs. 

“Me?!” Andrew squawks, causing Steven to burst into a fit of laughter, clenching his stomach through his sweater. Andrew huffs and pulls his shirt off, throwing it come-stained side first at Steven, satisfied when he hears Steven squeak in disgust. 

“You just got come on your sweater, doofus!” 

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> remember when i said writing smut was fun, and then i wrote smut - and it turned out to be just this. i'm sorry for letting you all down. i'll try harder next time, but for now please belittle me [@iwanttowheeze](http://iwanttowheeze.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


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